The Glasson Dock Beguiler
In not quite Saint Tropez near the river mouth at Heysham The members of the yacht club stood around their boats one evening Upon the pearly port side of Michael's Ruby Tortoise Was written all in blood 'You'd better watch your backs my rich boys' Hung from off the gunwale was poor Michael's wife Jemima The yacht folk hung their heads and breathed 'the Glasson Dock Beguiler' They say he roamed the quayside a prowler in a false skin Inside the Dalton Arms awaiting rich women to lure in 'Twas Jackie's wife Helena after rowing since her wedding Did find herself approached, the man enquired to where she's heading 'I'm off to drown my sorrows and pretend I'm happy living' The stranger said 'You'll be alright my love' then she walked with him When sat upon the jetty after long one-sided talking Helena asked her stranger, 'what of you? And why're you helping?' He said 'this dock's my home, it used to be a trader's outpost But now it's yachts and chalets since the devil took the hindmost' 'I've not become a postman, I've not become a filer I live for killing harlots, I'm the Glasson Dock Beguiler When they need a shoulder, when their husbands will forsake them I'll take and kill and show them that I think they are the heathen' In not quite Saint Tropez near the river mouth at Heysham The members of the yacht club stood around their boats one evening Upon the pearly port side of Jackie's Pendle Porpoise Was written all in blood 'You'd better watch your backs my rich boys'
Written by: Adam Collins, Alexander Jackson
Lyrics © DistroKid
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